The Night
by doopdoop2
Summary: For a minute, Bakugou was convinced Midoriya had been killed. But he's fine. He's fine. (So why can't Bakugou stop thinking about it?)


Bakugou was actually startled by the knock he himself made on Midoriya's door. It wasn't loud, but it shattered the silence which, until that moment, had been somehow almost a physical thing: a blanket draped over the hallway, muting and softening everything.

Bakugou tensed, feeling a flight response kick in. He forced himself to count to ten in his head, knowing that if there was no response he couldn't bring himself to knock a second time.

It didn't matter; Midoriya opened the door on seven. He was bleary-eyed and tired, but did not look as if he'd been roused out of sleep. His hair was ruffled, and he was wearing a loose T-shirt and sweats – what Bakugou knew to be his pajamas. When their eyes met, Midoriya blinked, obviously surprised, and parted his lips a little, but said nothing.

"Deku," Bakugou began, and stopped. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling nervous energy coursing through him; he had to make a conscious effort not to run away. The worst part was that he couldn't even say exactly why he was there. It was as if something had led his feet, something deeper than reason and conscious knowledge. He _wanted_ without knowing why.

"Come in," Midoriya said after a moment, and Bakugou obeyed instantly. The room was dark except for the light of a desk lamp, which cast everything in a soft, warm glow. Midoriya sat down on his bed, and Bakugou, not sure what to do, stood in front of him.

"Do you need something?" Midoriya said gently, and Bakugou shrugged, looking down and away. He hadn't planned this out at all, hadn't given it even a moment's thought. Standing here now, he found himself too bone-weary to be prickly and sarcastic and defensive, and that left him with nothing.

"Are you still thinking about today?"

Bakugou looked up sharply. Midoriya was right, of course. He _was_ thinking about earlier that day – thinking about the superstrong villain who'd ambushed them, he and Midoriya and Uraraka, when they were walking back from the train station. The guy hadn't really even been anything special, he'd just had the advantage of surprise, and he'd acted before they'd had time to even realize there was a villain around. The first thing Bakugou had been aware of was a car coming towards them, sailing out of the air in an arc that was almost graceful, headed straight at Midoriya – and Midoriya looking the other way, oblivious…

Bakugou had been frozen, paralyzed, unable to move or yell or attack, just so startled by the unexpected car his brain hadn't even begun to process the situation. The car had landed roof-up with a deafening crash of breaking glass and screeching metal. Bakugou hadn't seen where Midoriya had ended up, but he'd known from the car's trajectory and Midoriya's obliviousness that he could not have gotten out of the way in time. The car's wheels had spun in the air a half-second before stopping, but otherwise it hadn't moved. Bakugou had wanted it to move, wanted Midoriya to climb out from under it, bruised but smiling.

Finally his brain had gotten its shit together enough to scream _Villain!_ at him; he'd turned and run and taken the car-thrower in all of ten seconds flat. Bakugou's pulse had been beating in his ears like a drum, so fast he couldn't catch his breath, and when the villain was unconscious on the ground beneath him he had turned and shouted for Izuku, and run towards the car, trying to heave it up to see the damage done, even though the idea had made him sick.

"Bakugou," someone had said – Uraraka, much less worried than she should have been, and Bakugou had wanted to scream at her too, ask her why she wasn't helping; but when he turned to look, Midoriya had been floating a few inches off the ground next to her, his eyes wide. After a second Uraraka released her Quirk, and he dropped to his feet wordlessly. She had been on Midoriya's other side; she must have floated him out of the way in time without Bakugou realizing.

He grunted and stepped away from the car.

"Thanks for taking care of the villain!" Midoriya had said, voice a little too high-pitched to be as casual as he'd been trying to seem. "Let's just make sure he didn't have any accomplices, and head back to the school!"

The entire thing had taken less than a minute from start to finish.

Midoriya and Uraraka hadn't brought up Bakugou's reaction – his desperate scream, the way he'd thrown all his force at that upside-down car as if he might be able to move it alone to get to Midoriya. Bakugou had been too afraid to use his Quirk for fear of collateral damage, and in that moment he'd felt so pitifully weak, straining, mentally begging the pile of twisted metal to move, _move_ …

"I'm fine, you know."

Midoriya's voice tore Bakugou back to the present. Bakugou had known, of course, that he was fine, had known as soon as he'd seen him standing off to the side next to Uraraka. Thanks to her, Midoriya hadn't even been scratched. The only injury any of them had suffered was Bakugou's scraped up hands from scrabbling at the wreckage of the car, and those shallow injuries hadn't even required bandages.

All in all, it should not be bothering Bakugou like it was. He should not have spent his Friday evening alone in his room, clammy and nauseous, replaying those seconds endlessly in his head: his own paralysis, the sickening crunch of the car hitting the street, the terror he'd felt at thinking: _Izuku isn't moving…_

"But you already knew I was fine," Midoriya went on.

"Of course I did," Bakugou said, wishing he could explain his thoughts with words. Midoriya, Uraraka, hell, even _Iida_ – they were all better at it than Bakugou was. He knew there was a gulf, broad and nearly impassable, between what he wanted to say and what he did say, and it pissed him off to no end.

Midoriya didn't ask why he was there. He just stayed sitting on the bed, his hands resting loosely in his lap, and looked up at Bakugou. Bakugou studied that face, the face that hadn't been crushed between steel and asphalt, the body that hadn't required time to heal, because it had not been harmed. He tried to stop his brain from telling him otherwise.

"How can I stop seeing it?"

Midoriya's brow crinkled. "What?"

"You weren't hurt," Bakugou said. "I know you weren't, but I keep thinking…"

He trailed off, but somehow, Midoriya understood what he meant. His look of confusion softened and turned to pity, and Bakugou wanted to raise his hackles, wanted to spit back that he wasn't looking for that, but he was too tired to react at all. He felt exhausted down to his bones, as if the fight had been an hour instead of two punches and a fireball.

Midoriya stood and held out his arms. "Kacchan, come here."

Part of Bakugou recoiled, and thought, _Oh God, Deku is trying to_ hug _me;_ but part of him, at the moment the more dominant part, didn't think at all and just went towards the embrace. Bakugou stepped up to Midoriya like he was offering himself up as a sacrifice, and Midoriya grabbed him and held on tightly, arms around his waist. After a moment of not knowing what to do, Bakugou raised his arms and wrapped them around the other boy so they were holding each other, each's face pressed against the shoulder of the other. Bakugou couldn't remember ever being this close to Midoriya, at least not since they were very young. Time stopped; he was only aware of the warmth of the body pressed against his and his own breaths, which grew slower and less shallow as the seconds passed.

"It's nice to know you care," Midoriya said, after they'd finally broken apart.

A thousand replies swirled in Bakugou's head: his first impulse was to deny he cared at all, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't speak, could hardly breathe. It was as if his throat had swollen shut. He seethed, hating himself and his body for this betrayal.

"Oh, _Kacchan_ ," Midoriya said, his voice laden with – fondness, maybe? Affection? More pity? Bakugou wasn't sure. To his surprise, Midoriya reached out a hand to rest it on Bakugou's cheek, rubbing the cheekbone with his thumb. When after a moment he brought his hand away, it glittered in the lamplight, and Bakugou realized he was crying.

All of a sudden they were close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces. Bakugou didn't know who initiated it, if it was Midoriya or himself or just that both of them had drawn together at the same time; it had been too quick for him to follow. The space closed an instant later and they were kissing, wet and a little clumsy. Midoriya tasted of toothpaste, and it was somehow endearing to Bakugou, to know that sort of private thing about him from the flavor of his mouth.

The realization that followed a moment later – that he was kissing _Deku_ , that he was enjoying it and wanting to _taste him_ – made Bakugou pull away abruptly. He took a few deep breaths, unable to comprehend what was happening, how this had begun.

"Hey. Stop," Midoriya said, bringing one hand up to rest gently on Bakugou's shoulder. "I can see you overthinking this. Can't you just let yourself enjoy it?"

Bakugou took one more deep shuddering breath and nodded. His body felt separate from his head: the latter was telling him to back off, to flee, telling him that this was _Deku,_ for God's sake, but the former was enjoying the moment, rejoicing in the touch and the pleasant sensations of kissing.

"I'm alive," Midoriya said, taking one of Bakugou's hands in both of his own and moving it slowly to rest against his chest. Bakugou could actually feel Midoriya's heartbeat, going as quick as his own. _This is cheesy_ , he thought, and it was, but it was also unbelievably _intimate_ , even more intimate than the kiss they'd just had. Midoriya might have understood the cliché too, because he laughed a little self-consciously and said, "I think it hasn't sunk in for you yet. You really thought I died, didn't you?"

Bakugou nodded. He'd hardly spoken a word this whole time, but the other boy didn't seem to mind. "Sleep with me tonight," Midoriya said, and Bakugou felt a thrill pass through his body like a bolt of electricity, hot-cold. "Not sex," Midoriya added quickly, giggling with nerves. "Just – to remind you that I'm fine. If you want, I mean."

" _Yes,_ " Bakugou said, blessedly finding his voice at last. "Yes, Deku – Izuku –" Midoriya shivered beneath his touch, and Bakugou realized it was using his given name that had had that effect on him. He licked his lips, a little more confident. "Izuku. I do want that."

" _Kacchan_ ," Midoriya said, leaning forward, and they were kissing again, all warmth and softness, the uncertainty falling away from both of them moment by moment. If only Bakugou could freeze time like that, Midoriya's lips on his own and Midoriya's beating heart beneath his hand. Eventually they did break apart again, and went to do their own thing for a few minutes; Bakugou went back to his dorm to grab his things, and when he returned Midoriya was sitting on the bed, legs draped over the side and hands in his lap, the exact same position he'd taken when this whole thing had begun.

This time, Bakugou didn't stand in front of him with uncertainty, as he had done before. Instead, he got on the bed as well; he lay down on his side, facing the center with his back to the wall. Midoriya got up to turn the desk lamp off, plunging the room into complete darkness. Bakugou heard the other boy pad back to the bed.

For a moment Bakugou just waited, expectant, nervous, his heartbeat beating wildly, not knowing the next step. Then Midoriya lay down next to him, facing him, a little higher up in the bed than he was, so that Bakugou's face was pressed against his chest. He could _hear_ Midoriya's heartbeat now, as well as feel it against his cheek. Bakugou was sure this was intentional on Midoriya's part, and a deep-down part of him still wanted to say something scathing at this strange babying treatment, but as he snuggled in closer he could do nothing but lay there and breathe and feel Midoriya's body against his. Bakugou wished Midoriya was shirtless, because skin-on-fabric contact wasn't quite as nice as skin-on-skin would have been, but it was still good, very good; he gave a long exhale, feeling his body relaxing and sleep settling over him.

"I care about you, too," Midoriya was saying. "I worry about you all the time. When you were kidnapped – and every time you've been in danger since…"

Bakugou grasped at the words, but couldn't hold them; he was close to falling asleep. He pulled Midoriya tighter and breathed him in, unable to do anything else. _Alive_ , he thought tiredly, _see, he's alive, he's alive_. A few seconds later Midoriya lifted one hand and began to run his fingers through Bakugou's hair. In that moment, Bakugou was the most relaxed he had ever been in his life. Nothing less pressing than a villain attack could have gotten him out of bed.

There was still, as always, a little voice telling him _This is weird and wrong and you need to think about what you are doing,_ but he pushed it aside, not for the first time that night. There would be time for that tomorrow. Now, there was only time for this: for the gentleness of Midoriya's fingers in his hair, the steady rhythm of the heartbeat against his cheek, and for sleep.


End file.
